Johann von Leers: Out of the Way! Part 2/3 [Der Weg 1951-09]
An original translation of "Aus dem Wege!"
Title: Out of the Way! [de: Aus dem Wege!]
Author(s): Johann Jakob von Leers as “Gordon Fitzstuart”
“Der Weg” Issue: Year 5, Issue 09 (September 1951)
Page(s): 649-653
Dan Rouse’s Note(s):
Der Weg - El Sendero is a German and Spanish language magazine published by Dürer-Verlag in Buenos-Aires, Argentina by Germans with connections to the defeated Third Reich.
Der Weg ran monthly issues from 1947 to 1957, with official sanction from Juan Perón’s Government until his overthrow in September 1955.
I want to express my deep gratitude to “wilhelm25” for his high quality scans and curation of the both the magazine Der Weg and further related works. To crib his notes from Forces Behind Roosevelt, published by von Leers in 1941, he draws a direct line to the current article published in 1951. Citing Dieter Vollmer, an Editor for Der Weg, in his 1993 autobiography:
"Prof. von Leers, under the pseudonym Gordon Fitzstuart, penned three continuations drawn from his own profound understanding of these connections. He had access to a wealth of sources otherwise scarcely available.”
Source Documents:
[LINK] Der Weg 1951 German Scans
[LINK] Forces Behind Roosevelt (1941) [de: Kräfte hinter Roosevelt]
[LINK] Dieter Vollmer: Taking Stock of the First Half of Life
September 25, 1935, the Chicago Tribune page 3
[LINK] Sudden death! By the squire of Krum Elbow ... New York 1936.
On September 25, 1935, the Chicago Tribune reported that Mr. Bernard M. Baruch, the eminent advisor to both the Wilson and Franklin Delano Roosevelt administrations, had declared:
“I think that national pride is a lot of nonsense.”
For years, the eerie, shadowy influence of this man had aroused suspicion among vigilant Americans. Among them stood a meticulous master of finance, a realm that to most seemed a book sealed with seven locks. Congressman Louis T. McFadden, born on July 24, 1876, in Troy, Pennsylvania, cautioned Congress in a speech (recorded in the Congressional Record of June 27, 1934) with these words:
“Since our entry into the World War, there has not been a government in which Baruch was not the foremost financial and political advisor—and every administration that heeded him has plunged us deeper into financial ruin.”
The Dearborn Independent, on June 25, 1935, had written:
“The sole interest of Bernard Baruch and his circle is the communist state. To achieve this, they need only drive the patriotic populace into war.”
This sinister figure in the shadows, along with the men around and behind him, was the target of his scrutiny.
There stood this aged, upright man, solitary, a voice crying out in a wilderness of slander, willful suppression of truth, and a clandestine conspiracy to corrupt humanity. There stood Louis T. McFadden in those foreboding years of 1934 and 1935, as the grip of the Roosevelt faction tightened over the United States and the web of death grew ever more constricting. He charged:
“This is a gambler’s government. Mr. Roosevelt does not even deny his gambler’s streak. He champions a ‘bold policy of experiments,’ much like Samuel Insull did.”
(Samuel Insull, a notorious speculator in England, had just been arrested in Greece at that time.) McFadden assailed Morgenthau’s “Kitty-Bill,” a law ostensibly providing two trillion dollars for “currency stabilization,” but in truth a secret slush fund for Roosevelt’s schemes. Morgenthau, Baruch, and Felix Frankfurter—Congressman Louis T. McFadden had the audacity to confront Congress, declaring:
“Can you not see that this Kitty-Bill mirrors the very framework of the Protocols of the Elders of Zion? Are not the Protocols already coming to pass with Henry Morgenthau’s appointment as Secretary of the Treasury? Is it not the case that, in America today, non-Jews clutch mere ‘scraps of paper,’ while Jews hold the gold, the lawful coin?!”
With the anguish of a man watching his homeland slide into abyss, Congressman Louis T. McFadden accused:
“One of Jacob Schiff’s schemes was the mass influx of Russian Jews into the USA. We permitted them to come and snatch the bread from our citizens’ mouths, while Trotsky was nursed at Schiff’s knee. Yet the United States must not let Jewish international bankers drag us into another war. No one within the reach of my voice can deny knowing that this nation has fallen into the hands of global moneychangers. Why should these truths be shrouded?”
In an office on Fourth Avenue, Louis T. McFadden’s file was specially marked.
Danger swelled around him. He was fearless. With near-superhuman vigor, he ceaselessly pointed to the forces propelling the United States toward a new world war, those eager to fling wide the gates of nations to communism. Then, one day, his fate overtook him.
A leaflet from the small, valiant “American Gentile Committee,” a bulwark against the assaults of an unseen world government, recounted his demise:
“With profound sorrow, we learned that former Congressman Louis T. McFadden, of Canton, Pennsylvania, passed away on October 1, 1936, at the age of 60. The cause of his death, rendered in plain American from medical jargon, was said to be a blood clot. In a perfectly healthy man, such a clot typically signals poisoning. He died in New York, having just probed the scandal of Morgenthau’s currency stabilization and his betrayal of the American people.”
Mr. McFadden was renowned as the world’s foremost authority on money matters, banking, currency, international finance, and speculative ventures—the whole corrupt edifice of today’s credit system, the Federal Reserve Board, and the Federal Reserve itself. He ranked among the most gifted and erudite men ever to serve in any congressional sphere. He was the boldest critic of the corrupt deeds of immigrants and their puppets, wielding only unassailable facts, figures, and names. Not one of his claims was ever disproved, not one of his forecasts went unfulfilled—and for this, he was liquidated!
He foresaw the stabilization fund, through which Morgenthau could aid foreigners at Americans’ expense. He foretold the government’s gold law and prophesied every corrupt measure the administration would enact, for they were already inscribed in the Protocols. His exposés stunned the enemy, leaving them mute and powerless, unable to counter the speeches that toppled them.
It was Louis T. McFadden, that great American patriot, who battled for a non-Jewish administration and education, who strove to impeach President Hoover, empowering him to unmask and name the “hidden rulers” he knew so well, to bring their entire cabal to justice. By chance, a small fire erupted in the White House while Mr. Hoover was campaigning—shortly after vowing in a speech to expose those “invisible rulers”—seemingly destroying the evidence of these shadowy overlords. With the proof gone, Mr. Hoover was left defenseless, at the mercy of the destroyers. McFadden’s efforts were crippled by foes; every ounce of energy and pressure was marshaled to make his House colleagues vote him down. The entire press was rallied to crush him, yet he never abandoned hope of awakening the people of his cherished land. Mr. McFadden waged a brave, protracted struggle against overwhelming odds in the House of Representatives, often confiding to close friends that he felt like a voice in the wilderness, his warnings unheeded. He was a noble citizen and patriot who loved his country above all, though he could never hope for personal acclaim. Louis T. McFadden died for his nation.
On October 14, 1936, fourteen days after his death, Pelley’s Weekly wrote:
“Now that this American patriot of old stock is gone, the public may be told that, soon after his public outcries against the oppressive might of the Jews, his friends learned of two attempts on his life. The first involved two revolver shots fired from ambush as he stepped from a taxi outside a Capitol hotel. Thankfully, both missed, though the bullets struck the cab. Later, he fell violently ill after a political banquet in Washington. His life was spared from this poisoning only because a friendly doctor, present at the dinner, treated him at once.”
After his death, James True Weekly added:
“McFadden is the latest in a string of well-informed Americans felled by sudden, mysterious bouts of ‘heart failure.’”
In the office at 461 Fourth Avenue, another index card could be retired. The Jewish Sentinel of October 8, 1936, published a photo of the deceased with the caption:
“Out of the way.—Louis T. McFadden, former Congressman from Pennsylvania and arch-antisemite, who sought backing from a ‘National Christian-Gentile Committee’ for his presidential bid, died last week.”
Beside the image of the man now “out of the way,” the paper placed a photo of Rabbi Dr. Louis Birnstock of Temple Sholom.
A room thick with cigarette smoke, teacups, and schnapps glasses strewn across the table. The hour is late. Each young man, with heavy horn-rimmed glasses and blue-shaven cheeks, speaks; each girl, with bobbed hair and nicotine-stained fingers, spins tales. In truth, no one listens. It nears midnight. That mood—half ease, half melancholy—known to all who’ve tasted the East, settles in. These people, too, carry a semblance of homeland: memories of crooked, rain-swept, gray lanes in Nowogrodek and Rowno, of dim shops on the Rynek in Krakow or Vilna. One of the youths strums a few chords on a guitar—first come the tender, soulful songs they brought into this harsh American life:
“Der Tate is gefohren zum Markt heruf na Beuth…
Kätzale du foins…”
Then follow the revolutionary anthems:
„Es bliesen schworze Wulken Vun Osten pfaift dr Wind, Aus Sibirien rieft d’r Tate Dir e Grüüs, mai Kind, Sollst gedüldig warten, Daß de graus wirst gar As e Jid dan schießen Koilen af den Zar...“Dark clouds churn in the sky, and a sharp wind howls from the east. From the frozen wastes of Siberia, your father’s voice reaches out, my child, sending you a fierce greeting. Be patient, grow strong, until the day you’re ready. Then, as a Jew, you’ll fire bullets at the Tsar’s heart…
Now a different spirit rises, charged with resolve. If we “mastered” Russia, we’ll “master” America too. Voices join in chorus. David Edelstadt’s Yiddish Internationale swells—the song their fathers sang as they hurled bombs at the Tsar’s Cossacks on Warsaw’s Miasdowska Street in 1905:
„Was begehren Jidenleut? As der Welt sull sain befrait. Koi Goi sei mer Harr, Kei Meilech und kei Zar, Glicklich sein soll nor de Maß, Vun insere Arbeitersklaß! Brieders, werft dem Granat Platzen soll jeder Staat!“What do Jewish folk demand? A world set free! No outsider, no king, no Tsar shall rule. Only the masses, our working class, will know true joy. Brothers, hurl the grenade—let every state shatter!
“The USA too, the USA too! Let them all burst!”
cries one of the girls, drunk with fervor. Again, the guitar clangs and sings:
“Otritsjómsja ot starago mira…”
Let us renounce the old world!”
As the song fades, a youth speaks into the stillness:
“They are blind. They no longer dare to see. But we press onward. I read a line from Rexford G. Tugwell: ‘For the movement will go on in any case; it lies in the brains and blood of a people bringing into substance the stuff of old racial dreams…’”
With a still, grand, solemn face lies Governor Albert Cabell Ritchie, born August 26, 1876, longtime Attorney General, elected four times as Maryland’s Governor from 1920 to 1935, dead upon his pillows.
It is February 24, 1936—mere years before Franklin Delano Roosevelt will harness America’s might to secure communism’s triumph in Europe.
Albert C. Ritchie had seen much. The veteran prosecutor and statesman had glimpsed the shadows of Alger Hiss and Frankfurter, traitors and covert puppeteers behind Roosevelt. He had clashed with Pendergast, that “giant of corruption,” as his political darling, “Red Herring” Harry S. Truman, began to rise. He had witnessed plenty—and he meant to speak. Worse yet, he already had.
His name had long been logged in that notorious card index.
And now, abruptly, he was dead. The Squire of Krum Elbow reported:
“Seemingly in the best of health, Governor Ritchie had returned in jovial spirits to his apartment shortly before midnight Sunday. He had just address the Epworth League of Baltimore, urging the young people in a militant Christian speech to fight the Satanic forces behind Roosevelt. He announced he was leaving in the morning to tour the United States to try to arouse the people to the danger of the world conspiracy, using the president as a mask under which they hoped to capture the United States and liquidate its Christian leaders. Within two hours this brave gentleman was dead.”
The noted columnist Ray Tucker wrote:
“Mr. Ritchie might have proven a more formidable foe than the other three whom death has removed from the political scene—Huey Long, Thomas Schall, and Bronson Cutting. The former Maryland governor had delivered an anti-Roosevelt address only a few hours before he expired, and he was about to set out on a national tour lambasting the New Deal. He had few personal hatreds and boasted a national following more widespread than Al Smith, whose support was racially and geographically limited.
Mr. Ritchie’s totally unexpected demise has precipitated suggestions that certain anti-New Dealers should watch their health—and see their doctors.”
The Squire of Krum Elbow added:
“Not merely our personal freedom, but our very lives hang in the balance; not just our nation, but our entire civilization stands imperiled by the ghastly sect that rules the White House.”
And the enigma lingered in the shadows, unresolved, its throttling hands reaching from the dark.
Soon it would emerge more starkly, grasping for even loftier figures…
Thank you. absolutely fantastic work.
There was an error with the audio upload. It should be fixed now.